BIRDS OF BERMUDA. 175 
vivacious manners, and pleasant warble render it an object of interest 
to all; while its confiding and fearless nature in the breeding season, 
and the number of noxious insects it destroys, cause it to be strictly 
protected throughout the islands. The male bird in spring, when the 
sun’s rays illumine his dazzling blue plumage, is perfectly lovely ; he 
flashes across the road like a ray of azure light, and seems actually to 
blaze with intense color from among the sombre foliage of the cedars. 
His spouse is far more sober in her attire; but she too puts on nuptial 
attire and looks uncommonly smart in April and May, when she acquires 
an unusually vivid blue, and much suffusion of reddish brown about the 
head. I accidentally shot one in this plumage one afternoon, thinking 
it was a stranger, so much did it differ from the ordinary female. They 
breed twice, and, I believe, in some cases thrice; I have seen fresh eggs 
on April 4, and as late as June 19. Eggs four or five, delicate pale 
blue, unspotted, .85 inch by .68 inch. Nest of grasses and bents, in all 
manner of places. I have found them commonly in holes in old quarries 
or road-side cuttings ; also in crevices of walls; in rocks, even when 
some little distance from the shore ; in holes in trees ; on the branches 
of trees; in stove and water-pipes ; in calabashes, boxes, &c., hung up 
for them in the verandas of houses; in the folds of a canvas awning 
outside the door of one of the officers’ quarters at Prospect Camp; and 
in several other curious situations. The female sits close, and I have 
caught her on the nest. The young are strikingly spotted until their 
first molt. The males sing much in the early morning in spring, both 
stationary and on the wing, and continue their song, though with 
diminished ardor, till an hour or so before sunset. A warm, sunny day 
in winter, however, is the time to hear them in perfection, when a favor- 
ite cedar grove will resound with their combined melody, each songster 
perched on the very topmost twig of a tall cedar. The song is merely 
a short, but sweet, wild little stave, sounding to me not unlike that of 
the Blue Thrush (Monticola cyaneus), as I used to hear it from the 
heights, far away above my head, on the rock of Gibraltar. The call- 
note is a soft twitter; but they have also a loud double note, “ cher- 
wee,” reminding one forcibly of that of an Mgialitis. Attempts are 
made frequently to bring up young birds from the nest, but they rarely 
succeed. A few live ones are to be seen in captivity, presumably adults 
captured by birdlime or in traps; but as a cage bird it is a failure. It 
occasionally drives the Red Bird (Cardinalis virginianus) trom its nest, 
even after eggs have been laid, and uses it as a foundation for its own. 
